


So It Goes

by PrinceNux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And this helps, It's like a self soothing type of things, M/M, Making you all read my shitty writing, Some poetry because tonight sucks and I want to die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceNux/pseuds/PrinceNux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi. I like to write (mostly sad) Supernatural poetry, and then ask myself why I'm crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sausage

**Author's Note:**

> I read this poem at a Poetry Slam last year. It was great. I won an award. It's framed and hung on the wall in my living room/bedroom.

I met jesus  
in a Powell's bookstore   
we were mere ants under  
his mighty boots  
  
We took turns  
following each other around  
he left trails of blue ink  
all along the book spines  
and I wanted to lick it up  
  
He bought my  
coffee and a two day old scone  
the only question he asked me  
was why I didn't believe in him  
when I said I didn't know  
  
He said that  
it was okay because  
sometimes he didn't  
believe in himself  
either  
  
I met jesus  
at a simple little bookstore  
and realized that  
he was nothing more  
than a man


	2. to charlie, love dean

charlie bradbury   
did you know that the  
only time i said i love you  
to someone  
since mom died  
was in a flashback  
to the memory of my mother  
but that's because she needed to  
hear it  
that dad still loved her  
and so did i  
i loved her so damn much  
i wanted to make her proud  
i wanted  
i don't know  
i guess i wanted to watch her  
and dad grow old together  
but us hunters don't get  
to make wishes like that  
unless we are willing to sell  
our souls  
and i probably would have  
just to have her back  
to see dad smile again  
so sammy would know what it  
was like to have a real family  
instead of an alcoholic asshole of a father  
and an emotionally stunted  
self-destructive mess of a brother  
  
but even  
if they all knew my intentions  
behind the deal  
raising the dead has never been  
a good idea  
i know that for a fact  
and ten years would never be  
enough to make up for  
decades of not knowing the  
soothing touch of a mother's hand  
  
then you  
waltzed into our lives  
saved our asses  
and as a thank you  
we broke your arm  
and not for the first time  
but you just kept on forgiving me  
i wanted to ask why  
because i had done you more  
harm than good  
but then  
when you just kept on saying it  
through the blood and broken bones and pain  
i knew that you weren't just forgiving me  
for hurting you  
you were forgiving me for blaming everything  
on myself  
for not being strong enough to carry  
the whole world  
for not being able to save  
every person  
  
but charlie  
i never wanted a little sister  
i didn't need another family member  
another person  
that i loved with all of my heart  
that i would die for  
i just couldn't let you down  
that would have killed me  
  
but you   
just kept on picking me  
up and dusting me off  
telling me to keep going  
you helped me to believe in myself  
and i believed in you too  
i loved you  
to the point where it broke my heart  
because i knew that i couldn't keep you safe  
but you're not a little kid anymore  
you can protect yourself  
and i know that  
but it's always nice to have  
a helping hand now and then  
and that's what you were for me  
that's what you always will be  
  
"i love you"  
"i know"


	3. are you an angel, mister

dammit  
the first time that i saw you  
something woke up deep inside me  
a thing that i had not felt in so long  
it hit me like a lightening bolt  
like the first time john got drunk  
and took a swing at me for mouthing off  
but instead of a bruise  
that nobody asked about  
because being a hunter causes these kinds  
of things all the time  
just a casualty of the job  
dad said to explain it all away  
this thing   
it shot through my whole body  
starting from my toes  
sizzling up my bowed legs  
sammy said that they were for the  
better to carry the weight of the world  
on my shoulders with  
and it exploded behind my ribs  
but not like a broken rib  
this felt good  
but in a terrifying way  
i was so scared  
that i acted the way that i was taught  
growing up  
in this friggin life  
and i stabbed you  
god baby i stabbed you  
and if i could take it all back  
i would fall to my knees in front   
of you  
and beg you to take me back  
to make me whole again  
to make me a better man  
a better son  
a better brother  
a man that mary would have been proud of  
  
and  
i kept on seeing you  
for so many years  
you healed my wounds  
my cuts and my bruises  
my broken bones  
you placed your hands on me  
my face  
my shoulder  
you made me believe   
in angels  
even though god is absent  
you made me believe  
in sammy too  
even more than i already do  
and you told me  
time and time again  
that i deserved to be saved  
you showed me  
with a determined set to your shoulders  
fists and teeth clenched in   
naked and vulnerable honesty  
that even sinners can be redeemed  
but since   
"dammit dean you are not a sinner"  
that i didn't need to be redeemed  
"i saved the world  
i saved you  
i saved sammy  
i saved you and you and you  
it was always you  
when all i wanted to do  
was lay down and die"  
  
you  
just kept on giving and giving  
emptying yourself  
for me and my kind  
this world full of godless heathens  
you rebuilt me  
from the ground up  
made me into a good man again  
but it began to take it's toll on you  
your grace dulled  
and your eyes didn't shine as bright  
though they still lit up when   
you saw me  
and sammy  
but your shoulders  
they sagged beneath your  
ridiculous trench coat  
that yeah i kept in my trunk  
for that hellish time without you  
and i cried into the dusty fabric  
when i found the picture of sammy and i  
in the pocket  
and your hardships   
and selflessness  
they showed through  
your tough demeanor   
and i'm an angel you ass  
mantra but i know what it is like  
to hurt  
to want to die  
but you always made your mistakes  
with the best intentions at heart  
  
and  
all of your scars  
and wounds  
because being human hurts  
and the drugs   
because you wanted to see  
the colors again  
only made me love you more  
i wanted to keep you safe  
and even in the midst  
of your insanity  
you said  
"you know me  
always happy to bleed for   
the winchester"  
  
but   
dammit cas  
i wish you had let me  
bleed for you  
maybe just once  
i would have gladly  
carried you  
when you were too tired to walk  
and et wouldn't go home  
because he loved his human charges too much  
and we love you too  
cas  
we love you too


	4. human mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q: is this poem written from Dean or Priestly's point of view?  
> A: nobody fuckin knows!

be aware of me  
be afraid of me  
be terrified dammit  
look at me  
from a safe distance  
i am the open wound of child abuse  
though i am no longer a child  
it has not yet stopped  
i was left alone  
and now i am not only an open wound  
but a rotting and festering wound  
  
look at me  
but do not make a sound  
do not breathe  
do not even say a word  
i do not want your apologies  
or your bullshit excuses  
because i know that you saw the  
cuts and the blood  
the bags under my eyes  
and eventually the jutting bones of my hips  
my ribs  
like cage bars  
struggling to rip through stretched taut skin  
the bumps of my spine  
and you did not hug me anymore  
perhaps you were afraid of hurting yourself  
on my sharp edges  
  
and i got so cold  
all skin and bones  
mostly bones at that point  
even a hand to the hot burner   
did nothing to stem the chill  
and my stick thin arms  
elbows like bowling balls  
could not wrap around myself  
hard enough and close enough  
to chase away the icy winds  
i shivered for so long  
but you took no heed  
  
i am still shivering  
but now i have become accustomed   
to it  
it is all i know  
so now  
i do nothing to stop the chill


	5. asphalt god(?)

he carries the forest  
in the rolled up cuffs  
of his black slacks  
  
the finely creased lines  
right down the middle of each leg  
have now turned to wrinkles  
  
the rocks and the twigs  
deep puddles of rain  
soak and scratch his ankles  
  
what once were proud and powerful  
wings now drag behind him  
burned black from his shame of falling  
  
there are holes in his shoes  
but he harbors the promise of the sun  
shining again between his bare toes


	6. quiet truths

You are a brave man, 

Dean Winchester. 


	7. Crazy Like Sam Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: this poem was written right around the time I was admitted into an adolescent psychiatric ward for the second time. But, this is still how I feel a lot of the time. It's just a constant.
> 
> ^  
> That doozy of an author's note was written around last year. Maybe. Last 2014, or early 2015. I'm fuzzy on the details.  
> And, now, a year or two later, things are better. I am in therapy, one on one, and group as well. Things are going a lot better since I moved in with my father. But, the voices and hallucinations are still there. They're quiet. But, they will always be there. And sometimes they sneak up on me and hit me over the head with my mental illness. Eh.

I am pulling a

Sam Winchester

because I used to be able

to tell myself that none

of it was real

 

The voices

and the horrible things that

I saw

didn't really exist

 

Now I don't know

I can't tell the difference

my reality

it's become

a nightmare

 

The demons they tell me

to come with them

the angels they have left

 

I don't know anymore that

the things I see

aren't really there

 

I'm not crazy

not crazy

not crazy

 

Sam Winchester

doesn't wanna go back there

and neither do I

though we may need to

 

"You know it's not real, right?"

"No."


	8. Love bites

Love rips out your heart

sucks you dry

but the exhaustion is welcome

because it means that you're

still alive


	9. 27: Holding up the universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from a poetry challenge that I did a year or two ago. It was thirty days worth of prompts. This was the 27th one, and I was happy enough with it to share it. 
> 
> #refusetobeyourchildsfirstbully
> 
> I hate John Winchester

You will hold him  
cupped in your palms  
but this is not beautiful  
it is dying  
and you can't tell  
whose heart is stuttering  
but your chests are both heaving  
and when he goes still  
like the key being yanked  
from a wind-up toy  
and the light leaves his eyes  
you can't help but feel  
responsible  
for snuffing it out


	10. dear charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could be written to/for either Charlie Bradbury, of Charlie from The Perks Of Being A Wallflower. You decide. It is also written for all of you, too. Let's be infinite together.

come and be infinite with me


	11. family doesn't end

i smell like a family

there is drool on my shoulder

blending into the fabric

of my flannel

where i held my friend's baby

and i kissed her head and

her little face

and told her i loved her

and she giggled

and burbled back at me

and soaked my shirt in drool

 

there is dirt and grit

clinging to my skin

and my hair

where i held my friend close

after so many months of

radio silence on both our parts

and told him i loved him

and i smell like him

a lingering scent of

earth and travel

because for a nomad

the road is their home

but now he is so domestic

and underneath his usual smells

he smells like soap and clean clothes

and while this is strange

i am happy for him

 

i press myself into my friends

an extended family

ever expanding

i try to take in as much

of their scents as i can

because i naively hope that

i can drown out the smell

of fear and sleepless nights

and cold sweats that cling to me

i do not want to smell like my nightmares

 

i let them permeate my skin

and they stay with me

even if they are miles

and years away

i keep little parts of them

and they keep me going

they keep me whole

 

because family doesn't

end with blood

but it doesn't start there

either


	12. a letter

my hands are shaking

not with anxiety

i tell myself sternly

but with the caffeine

and too sweet bagel i had

for lunch

this is a sugar rush

or it might be the cold

that is turning my toes pink

setting my teeth chattering

and making my chest tight

maybe it is something else

but i don't want it to be

please just let it be the cold

and not some ridiculous fear

of being alone

 

i am just another echo

against the walls of

this house


End file.
